Thatcher

He was the youngest man there—he’d bet he was the youngest dean of studies ever brought into their group. Morgan was proud of himself. If he’d been alone then, he might well have given himself a pat on the back. Instead, he walked to his office that he had now and sat down in his chair.

He was a dean of higher educational studies. Holy Christ, his mom was going to shit. And his dad? He had no idea what he’d do, but he’d make a huge showing of having a son who was a dean. There were only two people ahead of him, besides the group of men he now worked with, and they were the president of the college and his vice president.

Picking up the phone to call his mom, he decided that he wanted to see their faces when he told them. So, instead of telling Mom what had happened today, he simply asked if they’d like to have dinner with him. In town.

“That would be lovely, son. Your dad and I were just talking about what to have. Where would you like to go?” He told her it was up to them, he was paying. He’d almost forgotten about the pay raise he was getting too. And perks. “Oh my, that is nice. Are you sure you have enough to make your bills if we go someplace nice?”

“Yes. I’m doing very well for myself, thanks in part to the work that Jonas has been doing for me.” Christ, his mind kept skipping over things that had been said to him. “I was wondering, Mom, if you’ve given any plans of hiring yourself out as a person who organizes and plans fundraisers? Some of the professors here were just commenting on how well you did with the school supplies last year.”

“I don’t know, Morgan. I pretty much like to do it now because it’s not something that I have to do. We’ll talk on that more when we have dinner. I have to tell you, I’m excited about having dinner with the favorite second son.” He laughed when she did. “I do love you, Morgan. Very much.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

He glanced down at the list that had been handed to him before leaving the offices today. He debated on telling his mom that he’d have a new number starting tomorrow but decided to wait. Just as he was hanging up, the movers came to box up his things to be moved. He didn’t even have to pack his things up; that was a nice perk in and of itself.

Dinner was at his mom’s favorite place. It wasn’t expensive, but she loved it. The pasta dishes had always been her favorite, and Dad fell head over heels in love with the lasagna that they had. He also loved the desserts, and Morgan believed that he’d had all them at least ten times over the years since they opened.

“I have some news for you both. I wanted you to be the first to know.” Dad asked him if it was bad. “No, not all of it. In fact, the little bit of bad weighs out— I’ve been made one of the deans of studies. Jack Damion passed away yesterday, and they asked me to be on the board with them.”

Neither of them spoke. Morgan had never felt so disappointed in his life. And until his dad stood up and yelled whoopee at the top of his lungs, Morgan was sure that he’d made a mistake in thinking that they’d be happy for him.

The entire restaurant, including the staff in the front and back of the place, knew that he’d been promoted by the time the cheese was on their big bowl of salad. Other guests came by and told him congratulations, and the manager even brought them a bottle of wine. This was what he needed, Morgan thought. Family to boost him up when he needed it the most.

There wasn’t a check for them to pay, so Dad, insisting on leaving the tip, left the waitress fifty dollars. He was a good man, and his pride in all of his sons showed through like this. Dad had celebrated for two whole days when Thatcher had become a surgeon and had done the same with the rest of them when they graduated from college. Morgan could only guess what he’d do for the next two days. Then he thought of what he’d done when Jonas had become owner of his own business.

“No taking out a full page ad in the paper, Dad.” He looked so crestfallen that Morgan wanted to take it back. But Jonas had told him what a ribbing he’d taken around town for his dad’s stunt. “You can put a little one in, no more than a half a page, but nothing more.”

Dad’s grin was infectious as they walked to their cars. Morgan hugged them both and told them his new number, as well as where he’d be located from now on. Mom asked him when he was going to tell the rest of the family.

“I hadn’t thought of it, really. I mean, you two were the only two that I could think of when they offered it to me.” He wasn’t sure now that he’d ever said yes, but they must have assumed it—he did have keys. “What about at Sunday dinner? I mean, that’ll be a good time to tell them all at once.”

“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea.” Morgan looked at his dad, who was still pouting a little. “Thatch, behave yourself. You’re making the boy wonder where the wood shed is.”

“Dad, how about you tell them all on Sunday, instead of the big ad?” He didn’t get a verbal answer, but Dad hugged him so tightly, he felt his belly rebel the food he’d just eaten. “Thanks, Dad. I love you too.”

When they left him to go home and no doubt plan, he went to see how far along his office was of being packed up. It was finished. Walking across campus to his new place, not only were the boxes empty, but everything was where it had been before, in his old office. And he had an entire cabinet that was empty. He had his head stuck inside when someone knocked on his door.

Bumping his head, he went to the door. A little blood was on his finger, but it didn’t worry him any. The kid standing there looked to be about twelve and was more interested in the blood on his fingers than he was in talking to Morgan. He asked if he could help him and put his hand behind him.

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nbsp; “Yeah. I’m looking for someone by the name of Damion.” He told the child that he had passed last night. “Really? I have this letter here for him. It’s special delivery. I’m the special delivery person at the post office. Now what do I do?”

“I don’t know. But if you don’t mind giving it to me, I’ll make sure that someone in this office takes care of it for you.” The kid looked undecisive. “You could call your boss if you’d like. Tell him I’m Morgan Robinson.”

The kid only had to mention his name to his boss, apparently, and was given permission to leave the letter. It was shoved at him even as the kid was hanging up the phone. Morgan asked him for his name.

“Reed Morris. Thank you, sir. I really appreciate you helping me out.”

Shutting the door behind Reed, he stuck the letter on his door. He’d remember it if it was there and decided that he’d had enough fun for one night. Morgan didn’t think he’d fall asleep right away, but almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold.

~*~

“I see.” He was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Rogen had a sixty million dollar policy on her life, and he was going to get it if anything should happen to her. “It’s a great deal of money, don’t you think?”

“I’m important.” She was laughing when she said that, but he knew how important she was. Not just to him, but to a few hundred people that she worked with, the president of the United States, as well as about two dozen people that worked in the main office who she guided into and out of trouble. “And the thumb drive—Winnie and I both have one of each of ours—is our last will and testament. We’ve never shared them with anyone before. At least I never have. But once you and I came together, I thought that I needed to fix mine for you. Winnie updates hers every year or so. I do as well. But this time, when we traded drives, she thought for sure that she was going to be killed. She had only fixed things on it that morning and made it so that Donaldson was her beneficiary.”

“She keeps yours in a safe and you hers. Along with a copy of your own.” Rogen nodded. “I don’t understand why it is you’re doing it this way and not just taking it to an attorney.”